


Potion

by postfrom1776



Series: The journey between Paris and London, a FrUk compilation [5]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Fluff, Halloween Challenge, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Magic, One Shot, potion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:15:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27157142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/postfrom1776/pseuds/postfrom1776
Summary: Prompt: Arthur is making a modified love potion to help people stop hating on Alfred for his self esteem to get back on track, and Francis accidentally taste it while it’s still concentrated, shenanigans happens...
Relationships: England/France (Hetalia)
Series: The journey between Paris and London, a FrUk compilation [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1830940
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	Potion

-“Why did I ever agree to this.” Arthur muttered as he flipped through the pages of one of his many leatherbound spellbook.

-“Because you can never refuse anything to America!” Flying Mint Bunny pipped in, circling around the nation of England’s head.

-“No, it’s cause my son is a spoiled brat who wouldn’t stop begging me until I accepted to help him with this stupid potion!” He responded before sighing in annoyance.

Last meeting, Alfred came to him in utmost despair, asking England for a spell or potion that would make the other Nation like him again.

Poor America, his leader and politics being hated by everyone was starting to take a toll on the personification as well. Alfred was starting to feel his hero persona slipping from him with each backhanded comment he received or straight up insults. Truly, it wasn’t his fault his country was fucked up and as a personification, he was powerless to change things.

Arthur had agreed to work something out for him, but he couldn’t just get every Nation under a minor love charm, so he found a solution. He was going to make a modified love potion, but instead of lacing other’s people drink, it would give Alfred a boost of self love and esteem, at least until the issues with his politics getsettled and that his international relationship returns to amicability. Love potion could only create fake feeling that would fade shortly after, but if Alfred could feel better for a short while, it would help.

As soon as the condition became optimal, he began brewing the base of a powerful love decoction, which he would dilute and modify afterwards. He might have no talent for cooking, but when it came to magic, he was completely in his element.

In his cauldron, he added a cup of moon water, drops of honey and crushed rose petals, and with a flick of his wand, the mixture began to light up in a deep wine red glow. He chuckled, he hadn’t lost his touch over the years. Love charms and potions weren’t made very often by the british man, but he did have his hand in many tragic love stories that inspired his dear friend Shakespear.

He stirred clockwise twice before adding sea salt and other various ingredients and the water-like liquid began to boil in the cauldron. A cloud of vapor rose gradually from the potion as part of the moon water evaporated, revealing aromas unique to everyone, one of the rare details about the magical world that this Rowling lady got right.

Don’t get him wrong, Arthur had immensely enjoyed these stories, but frankly, the author was getting on his last nerve with her transphobic bullcrap.

England took a breath in the light pink cloud and a familiar aroma of fresh lavender, summer winds and metal reached him. He instinctively took a step back, recognizing the smell and a dark blush spread across his cheeks and on top of his ears, almost matching the tint of the potion.

He shook his head soon afterward, reasoning himself. It was him who was in love with, no not in love, maybe a small crush, but not the opposite, never the opposite. He added the final ingredient, a powder of moonstone and stirred anti-clockwise one last time.

-“There, now, I must let it set until the next crescent, so, in a few hours, before I can dilute it!” He told no one in particular, satisfied with his work. With that, he washed his hands and took the cauldron off of his oven top, because burning his kitchen _again_ was unnecessary.

He then walked out to his living room, a cold cup of tea waiting to be magically reheated on the table beside his chair, and the smell of books filling up the air. He sat down, enjoying the comfort of the old, velvety chair, and took a sip of the familiar drink. The golden rays of the afternoon sun filled the room and Arthur picked up his reading where he left up, finally done with most of his daily tasks.

Mere minutes after beginning his reading, he was interrupted by three sharp knocks on his door.

-“Bloody hell, I can’t believe Alfred is coming to check up on it now, it's only halfway done!” he pestered before standing up to go open the door, like any other gentlemen would do.

As he flew the door open, he sighed.

-“It’s not done yet, Alfred-” he stopped abruptly as he realized the blond standing on his doorstep wasn’t his son, but rather the infuriatingly well put together nation of France.

-“Fr-Francis, what are you doing here?” he stuttered at the sight of the soft smile on the frenchman's lips.

-“What, am I not allowed to visit an old friend, Angleterre?” he teased, a soft glimmer in his cerulean eyes. Arthur found himself reminiscing on the smell of lavender and wind and metal-

-“Aren’t you going to invite me for tea, mon ami?” France interrupted his train of thought once more, and Arthur moved over to invite him inside his house.

-”Yes, yes of course, make yourself at home.” He responded with an awkwardness lacing his voice.

-“The kettle is full and you can find the tea in the kitchen, I assume you know where it is” He added, regaining his composure and sarcasm. France couldn’t see how thrown off his mere presence made him.

Francis made, well, more strutted his way into Arthur’s house with a wide smile on his face. He was rather pleased that the Englishman let him inside with so little confrontation.

If he was completely honest with himself, he would admit that he had missed his rival, but for now, the excuse that things were going too smoothly between them and needed a little conflict was going to do the trick.

He made his way to England’s kitchen while the brit returned to his seat in the living room. France knew the Englishman’s cupboard like his own, having spent so many evenings cooking here on the pretext that Arthur was going to poison himself with his cuisine.

He opened the second panel and picked up a familiar blue cup with a white lace pattern printed on it. It wasn’t his cup, but since he used it every time he visited, it was almost as if his name was engraved on it. He even doubted that Arthur would use it for himself, seeing how it didn’t bore any tea stain, signs of regular use.

He reached for the tea bags in another cupboard before noticing the cauldron sitting on the countertop. He stopped in his mouvement, taking a breath and letting the light vapor in his face. From it, a strong smell of earl grey came to his nose, accompanied by the vague scent of rain and old books.

“Angleterre, always making way too much tea for himself”. He thought as he filled his cup with the dark red liquid, the tint reminiscent from the color of black tea. He walked toward the living room, blowing slightly over his cup before taking a sip.

-“You know, for once, you made something edible, Angleterre!” He teased with a smile, taking another sip of his cup.

-“You better enjoy it! These bags of tea were a gift from the queen, didn’t you see the packaging!” He responded, head snapping upward from his book and toward his guest.

-“How could I have known, it was already all brewed in your cauldron. You know that you have a very peculiar way of cooking, mon ami?” He mocked with the faintest laughter.

At France’s comment, Arthur’s eyes widened and his face turned to a sheet-like white.

-“How much did you drink of it!” He yelped, standing up from his chair and grabbing the half-empty cup from Francis’s hands.

-“A few sips, what is going on, Angleterre, I don’t understand..? Did you turn on the heating by any chance?” He responded, his elegant voice beginning to be slurred.

His face had taken the rich red tinge of a heavy blush and his clear blue eyes seemed to be slightly fogged, fever-like.The whole room began to spin on its axis, with Arthur being the focal point of his blurred vision.

-“You bloody frog! That was a love potion, and you just ingested more than the recommended amount! How could you think this was tea?!”

He retorted, a feeling of urgency overcoming his words. He placed a hand on France's shoulder to make sure he was settled in his chair before placing a cold palm on France’s forehead. In comparison, the frenchman was burning up, but the magician knew that it was only part of the first few symptoms.

His magical talents and potion making skills were still just as good. In a few moments, the first effects would dissipate, and the love potion would be in full action…

-“I need to leave the room France, you won’t be like yourself and I know we both don’t want to be here…” He added, withdrawing from his rival.

He would have hoped that the love potion would actually make France have sincere feelings for him, but he knew it was impossible. These potions could only give a fake feeling that would disappear right after, or they could multiply and reveal the feeling of love that was already existing. Either way, he might want France, but not that way… and Francis would never forgive himself if something like that happened.

As he was backing out of the room, France lunged forward and grabbed his wrist, fingers encircling Arthur’s jumper’s sleeve.

-“Non, reste, s’il te plait…” The plea made its way out of Francis’ lips, eyes now perfectly clear, filled with lights that reflected the one in Arthur’s.

England’s breath hitched in his throat at France’s tone and he forced himself to swallow the lump that was forming in his throat.

-“No, I know how much love means to you, and that, that isn’t it, it’s my magic talking, so please, for both our sakes, let me go.” He calmly uttered, voice turned quiet by the emotion in his stomach. He tried to distance himself again, tugging against the frenchman's grip.

At Arthur’s words, France’s gaze turned away from the bright moss green eyes to the ground.

“So I was right, you do not love me, even when you could have me under your spells, what a fool was I…” He muttered, biting his lower lip, the strong heat on his cheek winning him over.

-“No, you don’t get it, France, you don’t actually love me, no matter how much I’d love for this, these potions, they can’t create new emotion, it’s simply too real, too human to be crafted, what you feel for me now is…. fake” He justified, feeling that his heart was being stepped on with each syllable

“Well what about how I felt yesterday, what about how I felt this morning before coming to see you, what about how I’ve been feeling for hundreds of years, then?” He inquired, softly taking Arthur’s cheek in his palm and forcing him gently to look in his eyes.

-“Je t’en pris, je t’aime Arthur… stay.” He finally let the three forbidden words poor out of his pink lips.

England could do nothing but stare, feeling the warmth of France’s hand against his face, the deep affection in his sapphire eyes and the slight smell of lavender that surrounded Francis everywhere. It was true, it wasn’t the potion talking, it was only France, only Francis Bonnefoy finally speaking up. Finally confessing, after god knows how many years.

Arthur leaned forward and Francis pulled him into a deep kiss, sealing their lips together in a close embrace, tasting of earl grey. Arthur’s hand made their way into France’s golden locks, deepening the kiss even further.

When the two nations pulled apart, breathless, Arthur broke the silence.

-“My room?” He proposed the effect of the lusty spell Francis was under having seemingly flowed through his own body.

“Oh oui, mon chéri ~ ” France instantly responded, his mouth rejoining with Arthur’s.

~ Fin ~

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! I didn't feel like belating the posting further, so here it is! Have a nice Halloween! Also! This was posted on the day we received the news that Hetalia was coming back! 7th season and new manga! So welcome to all new fan and lets be a good fandom, please!


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